What Webs We Weave
by Misguided Marissa
Summary: Set in an alternative universe where Violet never moved to LA. Chad teaches Tate how to use the internet and he finds Violet and they fall in love over the internet. Each chapter is going to have two parts; Tate's side and Violet's.
1. Chapter 1: Part 1 Tate

Tate Langdon was your typical seventeen year old boy, except for the fact that he was dead. He was damned to walk around the halls of the appropriately named Murder House in Los Angeles; the house was home to more than a dozen spirits, two of which Tate himself killed. Chad and Patrick were the owners of the house in the early 2000s. Tate beat Patrick up senselessly before shoving a blunt object up his rear end; with Chad, however, Tate was much nicer—if you count taking Chad's hand, with the gun, and pulling the trigger into his own heart nice.

To say that Tate had anger issues would be an understatement. But Tate's story has only just begun; after all, he does have eternity.

It all started a year after Chad found out that he was now trapped in a house with the man he loved, but whom despised him. Patrick was fighting with Tate; you know, typical guys fighting about how one stuck a poker up the other's ass, normal things. Chad walked in on them while Patrick was confessing his plan of leaving Chad in between each kick to Tate's torso.

Chad was angry at everything, and yet nothing at the same time. Yes, Tate killed him and the guy who he loved, but forever was terribly long time to stay angry at someone. Plus, Chad was brought up to forgive others. So the day Tate cornered Chad in the kitchen, Chad didn't even try and avoid him; he continued to stare at his brand new laptop while Tate started talking. "Look, Chad, I wanted to tell you that I do apologize for what I did to you. It must suck having to live in a house where you have to avoid someone you love and have no chance of finding someone else…"

Chad's eyes darted up from the screen. "Since when do you care about what you did to me? And, I'll have you know it's not impossible to find love, my dear boy. There's this thing called the 'internet'."

Tate walked around and stood behind his shoulder, looking at a site called _Tumblr_. "What is this?" he asked, looking at a page with a bunch of pictures including one where Chad was at the beach.

"It's my blog. I paid that wicked witch of a mother you have to buy this laptop for me. I just despise not being able to keep up with my celebrity gossip. Anyway, this is a site that you can write about anything you want and find people with similar interests. Instead of having 'friends' you have 'followers'."

Tate seemed intrigued by the idea. "Do you think you could teach me how to use it?"

Chad nodded. "Sure. It's really simple. It will keep you out of trouble, too. I find it quite addicting myself. I can be whoever I want. Of course, I still choose to be my fabulous self, but it's really fascinating."

Tate nodded. _It would be nice to know what goes on out there;_ he gazed out the window at a couple people walking outside the house's confines. _And I am rather lonely…_

Chad closed the laptop and started to leave. "I'll let you have Patrick's laptop. I bought it for him but he never took it out of the box. We'll start technology 101 tomorrow, old man," Chad chuckled at the idea of a seventeen year old boy needing help, but he had to remind himself Tate died before computers became such a big deal. He often wondered what Tate would've looked like grown up, and not corrupted by his bitchy mother. Chad could've seen himself attracted to him; even with the evil inside Tate, he had to admit he was quite easy on the eyes.

Tate thanked Chad before he left with his laptop under one arm and a cup of coffee in the other. He walked over and stood next to the window; he wondered what life was like outside of the walls. It had been years since he could leave and even though he thought the world was a goddamn helpless world, he missed it. He missed reading, and he wasn't about to talk to his mom long enough to ask her to do a favor for him. He liked the idea of learning about the internet and communicating with people all over the world; he smiled at the possibilities that were before him now.


	2. Chapter 1: Part 2 Violet

Violet was glaring out the window of her mom's car; every other weekend, Vivien would pretty much yank Violet into the car to go spend time with Ben. She hated her dad for what he did to the family. Granted they never were a happy family, but before he went and knocked up one of his patients… at least, they could pretend to be happy together. Vivien would pull up to the house and let Violet get out, if she never saw Ben again, it'd be too soon.

Violet flung her messenger bag over her shoulder—which held her entire life, her computer—and grabbed the duffel bag from the back seat. Hayden answered the door with her little boy on her hip; she waved at Vivien and Vivien gave one of those 'I am acknowledging your existence, but don't make me seem happy about it' waves back. Violet scowled at Hayden, she was only five years Violet's senior. "Hello, my darling, Violet," Hayden cooed.

Violet glared. "Okay, let's get one thing straight… I am not your darling. Your sweetie. Your baby, or any other 'term of endearment'. I'm simply the daughter of the man you fucked, got knocked up with, and ultimately ruined my family." Hayden's mouth fell open as Violet added a smartass smile. "Now where is my dad?"

Hayden didn't answer for a second, baffled by Violet's words. "He—he—he's gone to town. He should be back sometime soon." Violet rolled her eyes and shoved past Hayden; she stormed up the stairs to her bedroom. The small house had three bedrooms: the master—which Violet steered clear of at all costs—her bedroom, and Adrian's nursery. She threw her duffel bag against the wall and fell across her bed. She took off her messenger bag and pulled out her blue laptop.

Being only a sixteen year old girl, she couldn't live without her computer. It was where she cured her boredom, did homework, even talked to her so-called friends about school. She found that she had more in common with people she met on her _Tumblr_ than the people she put up with in person. Most of her 'followers' were from other countries, so the chances of meeting them were slim. She pushed the power button and watched it come to life. As soon as the screen greeted her, she felt somewhat better about the day she was having.

She pulled up the internet and didn't even have to sign in or go to a website as _Tumblr _was her homepage. Her dashboard was filled with various pictures from the people she followed. She stared at the little thumbnail picture of her and her mom, it made her smile slightly. Up in the corner was a little red number one over an envelope; she clicked it and was instantly thrown into an anonymous hate letter. The gray face sat mocking her as she read their angry words:

_You are always complaining about how horrible your life is. Well, if it's so damn horrible, why are you still alive? Why don't you just end it now? We know you cut… just go get your razor and cut your throat. _

Violet stared intently at each word; part of her was a bit hurt that someone on the internet who doesn't even know her could make such crude assumptions. Who were they to talk? They were only adding to her 'horrible' life. But that part of her was so small next to the part that laughed at their words. They were obviously cowards and had nothing better to do.

She hit 'reply' and began writing:

_Dear asshole who can't even tell me these things without cowering behind a gray face, the reason I'm not going to kill myself is so that I can continue to piss the hell out of you. You have officially given me the will to live, and I thank you. Please, feel free to keep sending this motivation for me to stay alive. I really appreciate it.  
><em>

She smiled at her response before pressing 'publish.' She sighed and got a bit bored with the people she was following; most of them tricked her into following them when she saw a picture of a band she liked or a moody quote, but then they started posting pictures of puppies and kittens. She liked animals just fine, but she didn't want pictures of them all over her dashboard. "Violet?" she heard her dad call up the stairs.

Letting a groan escape her throat, she closed her computer before wandering back to her sucky reality. At least, momentarily.


	3. Chapter 2: Part 1 Tate

Chad kept to his word and carried a brand new Dell laptop, still inside the box, into the kitchen and set it on the counter. He decided if he was going to teach grandpa how to use the computer, he needed some caffeine in his system, first; the ghosts couldn't sleep per say, but caffeine still affected them. Chad grabbed the coffee from the pantry and began making himself a strong cup when Tate walked in. "Ah, good morning, padawan," Chad chuckled at himself.

Tate cocked his eyebrow as he took a seat at the counter. "What?"

Chad rolled his eyes. "Okay, I know you died young and all that, but _Star Wars_ came out in the 1970s… You should get my references." Chad turned his back to Tate while he prepared his coffee.

"You watched _Star Wars_?" Tate asked.

Chad stopped what he was doing, began staring at the cabinet in front of him. "Oh, so just because I happen to be gay means I can't watch _Star Wars_?" Chad was mostly teasing Tate; he really didn't care what old man thought of him. He was what he was, and now that he was dead, he was going to be that way for even longer than he initially planned.

Tate looked up at him. "I didn't really mean it that way."

Chad started laughing. "I'm only messing with you. I was a young child when it came out, plus… Han Solo was gorgeous," Chad said, as he fanned himself with only fantasizing. He quickly looked at Tate's expression which was rather emotionless. He shook his head, grabbed his coffee, and sat next to Tate. "Anyway… Let's get started on your lesson for the day, shall we?" Tate nodded as he stared at the computer box. "First off, this is a _computer_. Say it with me, 'com-pu-ter.'" Tate glared at Chad while Chad chuckled; just because he was being civil with Tate didn't mean he couldn't have fun and tease him, as well.

"I know what a computer is, just last time I saw one… they took up an entire table," Tate replied. Okay, so maybe that was a tad over dramatic, but close enough.

After teaching Tate the basics of using the laptop, Chad pulled up the internet. "Let's see… first we need to make you an email address," Chad muttered to himself. Tate stared at him as though he was speaking a foreign language. Chad sighed. "It's… just watch what I do and you'll understand." Chad pulled up _Yahoo!_ on the screen. He began filling out all the information until he got to the ID part. "What do you want your screen name to be?"

Tate stared baffled at him; what was he saying? "Tate Langdon?"

Chad dropped his head. "No, a screen name is… You can't use your real name, or at least they advise you not to. It's the internet… you never know if you're talking to a mass murdering ghost or something," Chad mumbled, glancing up at Tate without moving his head. Tate did the sarcastic laugh in response. "Like my screen name is fabulosityneverdies," Chad said with a smile.

Tate took turns staring at the computer screen and Chad. "I don't know."

Chad sighed. "What do you like, you know, aside from killing people and sticking fire pokers up their asses?" Tate glared at him. "I mean, music wise or books, or anything?"

Tate thought about it for a moment. "I like Kurt Cobain and birds." Tate laughed at his answer, it sounded stupid to him.

Chad nodded once. "How about tatecobainsflight?"

Tate stared at nothing as he thought about it. "I thought you said not to use my real name?"

Chad agreed. "Your _full_ name is not a good idea, especially since yours has a past with it." Tate looked at him puzzled. "Ugh, I forgot… hang on." Chad opened another tab and pulled up the website with the _Westfield Massacre._ He pushed the laptop over in front of Tate and let him read the article. Chad watched his facial expression change to sad. "You don't remember doing all this, do you?"

Tate shook his head, his eyes still fixated on the screen. "No. I remember the police storming into my room and shooting me seventeen times—I counted how many bullets I found later. I don't remember much about that day; I remember being very mad at life, and at some point I took a razor to my wrists." He shrugged it off. "I guess that's why I don't remember anything before and I remember the police clear as day." He caught Chad's glance. "Let's go with that name you said before. Tatecobainsflight. I like it." Chad nodded, not sure what to say. He finished showing Tate how to use _Tumblr_ before leaving him to his own devices.


	4. Chapter 2: Part 2 Violet

Note: I hate that Violet has to be bullied, but it'll make sense later. I also hate that these types of things actually happen. It breaks my heart to know there are people who do stuff like this. Anyway, Violet is a bit of a sap when it comes to Tate, even when she doesn't know him well. She feels a connection to him and he brings out the "girl" in her. Uh.. enjoy! :D

After a long day of faking laughter and smiles to please her dad, Violet was ready to be alone with her computer and just be herself. Not to say that her normal self wasn't happy, but it wasn't the caliber she had been using all day. She hated Hayden with a fiery passion, but she didn't feel like being lectured by Ben to respect her stepmom.

She turned her computer on and signed into her blog; she checked to see if anyone decided to hate on her again after her little explosion the evening prior. No new messages, but she did have an alert: _tatecobainsflight is now following you._ To give everyone the benefit of the doubt, she would check out their pages before deciding if they were a waste of a follow or not.

After clicking on the name, she was instantly transported to… nothing. Just a page that was mocking her: _We're sorry. _She rolled her eyes at the evil blue page, it was laughing at her; she just knew it. "You stupid mother fucker," she grumbled under her breath. She clicked the refresh button multiple times in a row, each time her finger clicked the button a little harder than the previous. She was a teenage girl, didn't they know she _needed_ her blog?

Finally, after an hour of fighting and giving up—only to try again two minutes later—it began working again. She sighed in relief and clicked his name again, this time pulling up his page with no frustration on her end. Her page went instantly black and "In Bloom" by Nirvana began playing from her speakers. A smile—a _real_ genuine smile—found its way to her lips; finally, someone on there with good music taste.

Her eyes scrolled down with her mouse; pictures of Kurt Cobain and other dark, moody type pictures made up his blog. She came to a picture of a young guy who looked like he was trying to harness _his_ inner Kurt Cobain with his dirty blond locks falling into his eyes, but just enough to add a bit of mystique to his allure. She stared at his near onyx colored eyes, which stood out really prevalent next to his pale white skin. He was wearing a multicolored striped shirt and had a pissed off look on his face.

Underneath his picture he wrote a little about himself:

_I prepare for the noble war. I'm calm, I know the secret; and I know nobody can stop me, including myself. This world is so filled with shit, and piss, and vomit that it makes me mad—not just in the emotional way, but in the mental state, also. I want to go somewhere clean and kind. There's so much pain, so much. I like what Indians do in monthly rituals; they believed that blood held the evil in, so they would cut themselves to be rid of it. I like that idea; there's something smart about it, very smart. I don't torture myself with current "music" as I've heard it called; I love Kurt Cobain and pretty much anything angry. Here is where I would put my name, age, and something about my family, right? My name does not matter; my age is also irrelevant; I have a shitty mother who is a literal cock sucker and a father who abandoned me when I was six. That's what the normal people write on here, am I right? Well, normal people scare me. _

With each word she read, she felt so much anger and hostility coming from him; she was excited, but slightly unnerved, also. She felt a strange connection to him, like for the first time in seventeen years, someone understood her. She quickly scrolled back up to the top of his page and clicked the 'follow' button. She didn't know what to do after that; if to start a conversation, or let him do it. She decided to take pointers from her blog name; _this is bullshit _and shut down her computer. She had school the next day and didn't feel like spilling her guts to the internet about her life right then. She was too fascinated with Tate and what he was like, even though she hated acting like a "girl" and spending her last waking moments thinking about a guy. How silly was she?

The next day she checked her blog from her phone in between classes, hoping for that little red one over the envelope. She was slightly disappointed every time she checked it and had nothing from him; she sighed at her behavior, what was he going to do? Read her mind clear across the country and know she wanted him to send something to her? She was being ridiculous and annoying herself.

When she got home she checked one more time before bed; her eyes widened when she saw the little number she had been so incredibly and desperately waiting for. She clicked it and read the words from the gray face that taunted her:

_Did I scare you off, bitch? Did I win? Are you being laid down in a coffin as I type this because I got to you? Did you push down just a little too hard after my words cut you down? Did I hurt little miss tough girl? You're such a joke and a fucking ugly bitch.  
><em>

Violet growled at the evil words; it was _her_ blog, to do with it how she pleased. If someone didn't like it, why didn't they just leave her alone instead of sending such evil messages?

_No, I'm still here. Alive and well, thanks for your concern. I may take out my hate on the world and the life I have on my arms, but at least I'm not a fucking coward who hides behind a gray faced mask. If you have such hateful things to say about me, then why don't you have the audacity to tell me who you are? Why do you feel the need to hide when I'm the one being attacked? And I may be ugly, but I can change how I look… You'll always be ugly because you're consumed by the darkness.  
><em>

She pushed the 'publish' button and slammed her computer shut, and tossed it to the side. She stared up at the ceiling and felt the tears start to appear; all her life, her dad called her his fierce little girl. Her mom admired her bravery and lack of a give a damn for most things in life. Why was this getting to her? Why were the words of an ignorant fuck slicing her down the middle? Why wasn't she tough like she led everyone to believe? She rolled over on her side, a single tear rolled down her cheek and across her nose, falling on her pillow. She laid her arm over her head and tried to tune out life as she fell asleep.

Hayden peeked in the doorway, a proud grin plastered across her face as she patted her laptop that her arm was hugging. "Not such a brave girl now, are we?" she whispered as she shut Violet's bedroom door.


	5. Chapter 3: Part 1 Tate

Tate let his eyes scan over the various people Chad had him 'follow'. Most of them posted pictures of other people, saying how jealous they were about a variety of features the person in the picture had, but they lacked. He wasn't really paying attention until he got to a question someone had answered; their name was _violetsfiercebullshit._ He read the question left by the anonymous person and then her response; he hated that someone was attacking another person like that.

He clicked on Violet's page and read her little 'about me' section. It was very direct, just saying her name, location, and age. His eyes focused on the picture of her; she was quite beautiful. She had long blond-ish colored hair hanging in her face, light brown eyes, and a smirk playing on her lips which made her dimple prevalent. Her eyes were quite sad looking, which in return made him sad.

He clicked the "Ask Me Anything" button and began to respond:

_I don't know what the Hell that gray face's problem is, but they need to shut the fuck up. You're beautiful and don't let someone tell you otherwise. They're just assholes who have nothing better to do with their lives. Please, don't listen to them._

He didn't know why he felt protective over someone he had never met or even spoken to, but there was something about her that made him want to get to know her. Something deeper than just being attracted to her.

"Have we made any friends, yet?" Chad asked as he entered Tate's room. Tate was sitting on his bed, Indian style; his laptop was in between his knees and he had a scowl permanently etched in his facial expression. He shook his head at Chad's question. "Well, what are you staring so intently at?" Chad made his way over to the bed and stood next to Tate. His eyes caught the picture of Violet and he smiled. "Ah. Yeah, she seemed to like the same things as you do; birds and Kurt Cobain," Chad chuckled.

"Who is she?" Tate asked, his eyes still glued to the screen.

Chad shrugged. "That's where you come in. Send her messages and get to know her."

Tate looked up at Chad. "I sent her one already because I saw somebody sending her hateful messages, asking if she was dead and that she was ugly. Asshole must be blind."

Chad laughed. "Yes, there can be some hateful people on the internet. I'm sure she'll appreciate your little gesture."

Chad started to walk away while Tate hit the dashboard button and saw a red number one over the envelope. "Wait, Chad, come here," Tate called.

"What?" He walked back next to Tate and watched as Tate pointed to the number. "You have a message. Click it." Tate did as he was told; it was her. She had responded so quickly. Chad moved in closer to read the response. "_Haha, thank you for that message. I wasn't going to let some coward's ignorance dictate what I do with my life. But I appreciate your concern and thank you for the compliment. I'm Violet. _She sounds delightful." Chad smiled. He looked back at Tate who was glaring at him. "Well, I'll leave you to it, now."

"No, what do I say?"

Chad rolled his eyes, dramatically. "I can't teach you everything. Just talk about yourself; minus the killing and being dead part. I hear that's a real downer with girls," he teased.

Tate glared and Chad skedaddled out of the room. "What do I say?" he asked himself.

He clicked reply and just let his fingers move as though they had a mind of their own.

_It's no problem, I just hate seeing people be bullied. I was bullied.  
><em> 

_Backspace.  
><em> 

_Yeah, sure, I just wanted you to know how pretty you are.  
><em> 

Why was it so hard to find the right words? _Backspace._

_Hi, I'm Tate. I'm dead. Wanna hook up?  
><em> 

What was he? Some cocky asshole? _Backspace._

_Nice to meet you, Violet. I'm Tate. How are you doing?_


	6. Chapter 3: Part 2 Violet

The next day, Violet was in her bedroom at her mom's house, laying on her stomach on her bed with her computer in front of her at the foot of the bed. She was grinning from ear to ear with just the simple greeting Tate had left. _I'm doing well, Tate. How are you? I love your taste in music. Kurt Cobain is an idol of mine. I love how moody he is. _

There was a knock at the door before it opened and Vivien walked in; she saw the out of place grin plastered across her daughter's face and was instantly intrigued. "Violet, hon, what'cha doing?" she cooed. Violet quickly shut down her computer and said it was nothing. Vivien walked over and sat next to her on the bed. "Baby, I thought we had a good relationship?"

Violet's eyes widened. "We do, mom." 

Vivien turned her head slightly. "Then why don't you feel comfortable telling me what has you so happy on your computer?" 

Sighing, Violet opened her laptop and revealed the picture of Tate she was looking at. "His name is Tate. I know it's crazy, especially since we haven't really had a conversation… Mom, have you ever had a connection with someone that was almost instantaneous?" 

Vivien was staring at the picture. "Yes, actually; I felt it with your father at one time. Well, he's very cute. Just be careful, okay? You can't trust people on the internet." 

"Mom, you can't trust people in front of you, either." 

Vivien sighed and smiled. "True. I trust you with this young man, just be careful. Promise me?" She stood up and started to the door before even getting a response; she knew she could trust Violet. 

"Wait," Violet called. Vivien turned around. "Why did you get together with dad? He's such a shithead…" 

Vivien ignored Violet's crude choice of words. "He wasn't always that way. At one time, believe it or not, we were in love. He was charming and romantic, and brave…" she trailed off. "I was in love with him… and the thing is when you fall in love, it's kind of like you go crazy. Before you know it the whole world looks different and you'd do anything for the other person." She let out a sigh. "But, people change, Violet. Times change. I don't regret being with your father no matter how much pain he caused me in the end." 

"Why not?" Violet couldn't imagine her dad being any of those nice things. 

Vivien walked over to the bed and kissed Violet on the top of her head. "Because, baby, without him… there would be no you." She pet Violet's hair before walking out of the room. 

Violet let her eyes move back to her laptop, alerting her of a new message. Her heart began pounding as she moved her mouse. 

_Yeah, he is great. It's a real shame he had to die like that, and leave us with such horrible noise like they have now. What other bands do you like? I don't listen to much aside from grunge music of the '90s. I'm kind of stuck there. _

Violet felt her smile widen as she began to respond, giving him a list of bands he might like. They continued to converse back and forth until the wee hours of the morning when Violet fell asleep next to the computer.


	7. Chapter 4: Part 1 Tate

Days turned into weeks and talking to Violet became the highlight of Tate's day. If, for some odd reason, she wasn't online to talk to him, he felt lost. Even though she lived clear across the country, she helped him control himself. He wanted to be better for her; he hated the idea of how he was before this light entered his world. He never wanted the darkness to consume him again, like it did at one time.

She was at school right now, so he didn't bother to turn on the laptop, yet, but he had to find Chad and learn what Skype was before she got online. "Uh, Chad..." he called around the house. He hated having to rely on someone to help him, but he had no idea about computers or anything on the internet. "Chad, I-I need your... h-help," he choked out, instantly regretting it.

Chad walked into the foyer from the kitchen with a cup of coffee. "Norman Bates Jr. needs my help? Whatever could I help you with?" he said sarcastically taking a sip of his coffee.

Tate rolled his eyes. "You taught me how to use the laptop and Tumblr, but now Violet... Well, she asked me about this thing called Skynet or Skipper, or something like that. You talk to each other with a moving picture... I kind of told her I knew what she was talking about and that I had one."

Chad laughed. "Well, you lied." Tate's jaw clenched. "Oh, chill lover boy. I'll help you out. But I taught you how to use Google, I should be done with this task..." He signaled Tate to follow him up the stairs to Tate's bedroom, where the laptop was. "And it's Skype, darling." Tate cringed when he called him _darling._ Chad pulled up the internet and saw all these websites misspelled in the url memory. "Oh, my... Goggle? Utube? Panorama? What crazy sites were you trying to long on to? Myface? Spacebook? Ugh, Tate..." Chad shook his head.

"Shut up," Tate growled, slightly annoyed and slightly embarrassed.

Chad rolled his eyes. "Do you want my help or not? Did someone stick a firepoker up _your _ass recently?" Chad's eyes darted from the fuming Tate to the laptop. He pulled up Skype and downloaded everything. "What do you want your Skype name to be?" Tate stared blankly at him. Chad sighed. "I'll just make it the same as your Tumblr name... _tatecobainsflight..._ Alright, now you see this little camera?" Chad pointed above the laptop screen. Tate nodded. "That's what you look into and she'll see you. You will see her on your screen."

"How will I see her if I'm looking into that thing?" Tate scratched his head.

Chad closed his eyes. "You don't have to look at it all the time, that's just where you're camera is." Tate nodded. "Now then, tell me about this mystery girl..."

Tate stared at Chad and shrugged. "What do you want to know? Her name is Violet and she lives in Boston. She likes the music I like. She tells me about how these girls at her school give her shit and how her dad cheated on her mom, got his mistress knocked up, and left Violet and her mom. She doesn't like her stepmom. Which I don't blame her since she's a slut..." He sighed. "What else is there?"

Chad was intrigued. "Does she know any of your past?"

"She knows I have a brother and sister, a cocksucker of a mother. My dad left when I was six. I'm 'stuck' in the '90s. And that I live in LA. I don't intend to tell her about you or any of the other things I've done..."

"What about when she comes to see you?" Chad cocked his head to the side. "How will you explain everything then?"

"Comes to see me? Why would she?"

Chad chuckled. "Because she's falling for you. As you are falling for her, but I don't see you visiting her."

"Hardy har har har."

Tate hadn't considered Violet growing feelings for him; he was already feeling a lot of things for her, but that was fine. She was on the other side of the country, far away from his past, away from the danger he presented. What if she did come to see him? How would he explain everything?

"Tate!" His thoughts were interrupted by his mother's shrill voice cackling his name. He cringed. "Tate, darling, where are you?" _Stop calling me fucking darling!_

He walked down the stairs and stood behind her, in the shadows. She was looking for him. He stepped out from the shadows, slowly. "What?" he growled.

"There you are. I wanted to see my beautiful boy. Does that really deserve such a rude tone?" She shook her head. Her hand reached for the side of his head, but he moved out of its path.

"What do you want?" he repeated the question.

"I just wanted to see my son, Tate, why do you have to be so goddamn difficult?" She pulled out a cigarette and lit it, taking a long drag. "What have you been up to lately?"

He turned his hands into fists. "Chad has been helping me learn how to use the internet."

Constance scoffed. "You're communicating with that queer?" She rolled her eyes as she took another drag.

"Well, _mother_, it's not like I'm sleeping with him. He's not contagious."

"It's still disgusting what he does. Man should not lie with man. It's in the bible."

Tate chuckled, evilly. "Man can not sleep with another man, but a mother can have her own son murdered by the asshole she's screwing?" He shook his head. "Do you even hear the words that come out of your mouth? You're such a fucking joke."

Constance's jaw dropped. "Tate Hugo Langdon! You will not speak to me with such a tone."

He smiled and walked away, leaving her shocked in the foyer. He was terrified that he would lose control and kill her, and then he wouldn't be able to stand the afterlife, either.


End file.
